


Hold Fast

by AriadneKurosaki



Series: IchiRuki Month 2020 [17]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Drama & Romance, F/M, IchiRuki Month, Rukia is an archaeologist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26039812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriadneKurosaki/pseuds/AriadneKurosaki
Summary: Stay away from the old ruins or the Yousei will find you, the villagers tell her. One day, Rukia doesn't listen and finds not a Yousei, but Ichigo Kurosaki instead.
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: IchiRuki Month 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858906
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Hold Fast

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Day 21, Supernatural
> 
> Based on the Ballad of Tam Lin, with liberties taken - as they usually are. Remember how I said everything but The Emperor Makes a Match was going to be really short? Me either. Here's ~6,400 words that loosely meet the prompt.

“You mustn’t walk by the old ruins, or the Yousei will take you.”

The warning from the villagers was an old one; Rukia had heard it many times over the past two months, though she gave it little credence. Her job as an archaeologist kept her busy enough in what the people of this backwater village called the “new ruins”, in any case, and so she had yet to spend any time in the collapsed pile of wood and stone that they called the old ruins.

“Wear cold iron,” one of the elderly women in the village had said, pressing an iron pendant into her hands the day she arrived.

“Carry _omamori_ with you,” another told Rukia and her team, pressing colorful amulets on them from the local shrine whenever they bought supplies at the single grocery and general store in the village.

The dig in the “new ruins” had been scheduled to last for a full year with three staff members and two post-grad interns reporting to her, but with budget cuts she was down to an intern who spent half his time doing odd jobs for the villagers because his stipend was only enough for part-time work. There were few families in the village – most of the houses held elderly couples or widows. So the intern, Yamada Hanatarou, frequently spent his off hours taking care of tasks that the septuagenarians and octogenarians of the village could no longer handle.

Sometimes there were murmurs of a young villager who had gone off to make his fortune in one of the larger cities and was never heard from again. Rukia supposed these young men saw nothing in the village worth returning to, although she felt badly for the parents they left behind.

“We haven’t found anything in three weeks,” Hanatarou complained as he shoveled small piles of soil into a fine mesh sifter. “Not even broken pottery.”

Rukia scratched at a bug bite on her arm, leaving a smear of dirt behind. “This would be easier with GPR,” she agreed, “But I won’t have the budget for it _or_ for more staff until the fiscal rolls over in another three months.” She looked around the site.

A few stone foundations in varying states of collapse still dotted the five-hundred-year-old site, which had supposedly been the stronghold of a wealthy clan until plague and war decimated both the clan and the village in the 16th century. Despite having a historical map and even the collapsed out-buildings as a guide, they’d found little in the way of artifacts in the past two months. Wire grids dotted the site, some of them surrounding dug-out pits and others vegetation and untouched ground.

“Assuming they don’t cut the budget again,” her intern groused and shook the wood and mesh sifter to separate the dirt from any larger particles within.

Rukia hummed under her breath. “It’s an assumption,” she agreed. There were two proposals for additional grant funding waiting for her input on the laptop in the bedroom she was renting from one of the village widows. “We’ll make it work.”

There were upsides to the location of the dig: the village was _so_ remote, perched within a little dip of a valley high in the hills, and had enough rumors of the Yousei surrounding it that few visitors traveled there. The ruins were even less accessible, located higher up in the forested hills and reachable only by a dirt track that didn’t deserve the term “road”. As a result, Rukia didn’t have to worry much about security for the dig site. Which was good, because the budget for _that_ had been cut, too.

When she wasn’t working, though, the remoteness made itself known in other ways. There was little to do in the way of entertainment or amusement. The village had one restaurant, no movie theater, and internet service was often spotty. The community center occasionally held movie nights, but the movies were mostly older classics.

So, on her days off Rukia walked the narrow paths into the hills. There was always the possibility that she would find another possible location for a dig, but at the very least, she was stretching her legs and seeing something other than the walls of her rented bedroom.

Rukia looked up as the scent of roses reached her. _Roses? Here?_ she thought. She looked around; before her was a collapsed rock pile. “Oh,” she said, and spun in place. Piles of rocks were scattered throughout the small clearing, and wild roses grew through and around the one in front of her. “The old ruins.” The scent of the roses drew her forward and without meaning to she plucked one and brought it to her nose.

“Trespassing in the ruins isn’t a good idea.”

Rukia startled and looked up again. Not ten feet from her was a young man, around her age, with hair so orange it looked dyed. “Where did you come from?” she asked.

The man didn’t react to her but walked closer. He was tall and broad in the shoulders, and his hair was shaggy, with bangs falling into his eyes. The clothes he wore were kind of old-fashioned: a simple dark green kimono and striped hakama. His honey-brown eyes had a softness to them despite the scowl on his face. _Oh he’s **pretty** , _Rukia found herself thinking, and frowned. Just because she hadn’t dated anyone in three years didn’t mean she had to drool over the first man under 30 she saw.

“Hello?” When the man was within arm’s reach of her and still didn’t answer, Rukia poked him in the chest, _hard._

He flinched back, looking shocked. “You can see me?” he asked and stared down at her.

“Of course I can see you, you’re standing right there,” Rukia shot back, and rolled her eyes. “You’re not from the village, I’d have seen you before.”

He grunted and took the flower from her other hand before she could object. “I live here. You don’t.”

“What, here in the forest?” she asked skeptically, and looked him up and down. “In _that?_ ”

He sputtered at her. “ _You_ don’t belong here,” he finally said. “Your accent’s all wrong.”

“I’m an archaeologist. I study ruins like these.” Rukia waved a hand expansively. “So yes, I belong here. I’m doing a dig in the new ruins, but _these_ look even more exciting.” Not that she had the budget or people for a second dig.

“Hn. You owe me a tithe for being in my territory,” he grumbled, and scowled when she just laughed.

“This land is owned by the government. I’m not paying you anything just because I followed a hiking trail.” Rukia’s hands found her hips and she glared up at him. “Besides, I don’t have any money with me. Archaeologists aren’t exactly rolling in cash.”

The words drew a smirk onto his face, and he leaned closer to her. “I can take my tithe in other things,” he said, and his gaze lingered on her.

Rukia kicked his shin.

“Ow! What the hell, midget?”

“You’re not getting in my pants, and don’t call me midget!” she yelled, her voice echoing in the clearing.

He was busy rubbing the front of his shin. “I didn’t mean _that._ Come back tomorrow and give me your company, instead. And maybe a book.”

Rukia raised an eyebrow at him, considering. “I work tomorrow. It will have to be late.”

“Late is fine. I don’t have anything else to do,” he said with a shrug.

“Fine. I’m Kuchiki Rukia, by the way,” she said, and held her hand out.

Something gleamed in his eyes and when their hands met a pleasant warmth washed over her. “Kurosaki Ichigo. I’ll see you tomorrow, Kuchiki Rukia.”

He was gone, blending in with the forest before Rukia could say what she was thinking: _Kurosaki_ was a family name in the village.

Still, Rukia was intrigued and the next morning before work she purchased a new book in the general store. She wasn’t sure what Kurosaki Ichigo might like, but she picked out a book of sonnets.

After another largely fruitless day of digging, Rukia grabbed her bag, which held the book, and walked up to the old ruins. From the new ruins it wasn’t such a long walk, only half an hour.

Ichigo was waiting for her, and he raised an eyebrow at her when she brushed past the last of the trees and into the clearing. “You did come back,” he said, and there was a note of interest in his voice.

Rukia pulled the book from her bag and held them out to him. “I told you I would,” she said.

Ichigo took the book from her with a smirk. “Sonnets?” he asked, and she shrugged in return.

“In those clothes? You looked like someone who reads sonnets.”

He was wearing another kimono, dark blue this time, although he’d forgone the hakama. “I suppose,” he said, and perched on a pile of crumbling stones.

“Don’t! You could ruin a valuable piece of history!” Rukia exclaimed and stepped forward to shove him off. Ichigo caught her hand in his and his eyes gleamed humor at her.

“Calm down, they’ve been through worse. They’re already _ruined_ ,” Ichigo chided.

“Yes, but you could destroy evidence of who built these and why this area is no longer inhabited,” Rukia protested. His hand was warm around hers and she let him hold on a moment too long before she pulled it away, cheeks heating.

“Fine, fine, little archaeologist,” Ichigo gave in with a sigh, and stood. “You came here straight from the other ruins, didn’t you?” he asked. He reached out and rubbed a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

Rukia glanced down at herself; the light-colored shorts and ratty shirt she wore were stained with dirt and smelled a little of the earth she’d been grubbing around in. “Ah – I did. Sorry if I smell,” she said, a little embarrassed.

But Ichigo just shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s honest work.” He looked up at the sky, which was growing dark as the sun set. “You’ll have to leave again soon, if you don’t want to walk back in full dark. But you’ll have to pay a tithe for coming here again today.”

“What? But you _told_ me to come back!” Rukia tried to kick his shin again, but he was prepared and dodged.

“Ah, but that was to pay for _yesterday._ Today is a different day, and this place still isn’t yours.” There was a gleam in his eyes again, and Ichigo grinned down at her. “You’ll just have to come back.”

 _He must be lonely,_ Rukia thought, and her lips softened into a hint of a smile. “Fine. I’ll be able to come back in three days, I have a day off then.”

“I will see you in three days, then, Rukia,” Ichigo said, and there was a teasing note in his voice before he disappeared into the woods again.

The old widow whose home she slept in looked askance at Rukia when she walked inside, but only told her that there was a plate of food in the oven for her. Rukia bowed her thanks and hurried upstairs.

When she met Ichigo again three days later, there was another book in her bag, and other things too: she’d brought some snacks, and some of her archaeology tools, as well as a notebook and pen. She’d dressed a little more nicely as well, wearing leggings without any rips or tears and a close-cut blue dress that reached her knees. He was waiting for her again, and this time his hand reached for hers so that he could bring it to his lips.

Rukia flushed pink and hid her expression by reaching for the book she carried. “It’s a novel, this time. Did you like the sonnets?”

“I did,” Ichigo acknowledged. “Your bag looks bigger today.”

“Ah, I brought some snacks, and I thought I’d do a little…initial exploration of these ruins while we talk,” Rukia said, patting her bag. “Nothing too invasive, but I can take some samples for identification and dating.”

The expression on Ichigo’s face shifted into a scowl. “That’s not a good idea,” he said, and his hand caught hers again. “You shouldn’t disturb this place.” He looked _fierce_ for a moment, and he tugged her just a little closer to him.

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “What? But you were sitting on the rocks a few days ago and laughed at me for thinking you’d disturb anything!”

“It’s just not a good idea, Rukia. Trust me. And anyway, I have a better one.” Ichigo tugged her along and Rukia followed curiously.

“Are you leading me to your _lair_?” she asked and tried to inject a note of teasing into her voice.

“Hah.” He led her down a path that Rukia was sure hadn’t been there a few days ago, and in a few minutes, they were in front of a roaring waterfall.

“Oh. This is _beautiful_ ,” Rukia whispered. The air was several degrees cooler than it had been in the ruins, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the way mist from the falls drifted into the air and cooled her face. When she opened them again, Ichigo was standing close to her, hand still wrapped around hers.

But all he said was, “Isn’t it? Come sit with me, and we can have some of those snacks you brought.”

They sat on a flat rock by the falls and Rukia pulled several treats from within her bag: panda biscuits, pocky, and a container of savory ramen snacks.

Ichigo laughed as he saw her selection. “Are you _twelve_?” he asked, although he grabbed for the panda biscuits. “I haven’t had these in a few years.”

Rukia just sniffed at him. “See if I bring you snacks again,” she threatened. But though she was looking at the waterfall, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “So you _have_ had modern food and didn’t just appear in the woods one day, then?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, I grew up on modern food, midget.” He opened the bag and popped one of the biscuits into his mouth.

“ _Don’t_ call me midget,” she grumbled back at him.

“You’re so tiny, though. I can’t believe you can do such hard work.”

“I’m good at getting into tight spots,” Rukia mumbled around the stick of matcha pocky in her mouth.

“Hn.” He leaned in close and bit the other end of the pocky off, lips so close to hers that they nearly kissed. “I guess that’s an advantage. And you have big, strong men to lift the heavy stuff?”

Rukia, whose cheeks had turned bright red when he nearly kissed her, burst out laughing. “I have one part-time intern who’s fifteen centimeters taller than me,” she corrected. “And the villagers are almost all too frail to be of any help.”

Ichigo smirked, but there was something in his posture that relaxed a little, and Rukia wondered at that but kept it to herself.

Later, when he walked her back to the ruins, he said lightly, “Three days?”

“But I brought snacks this time,” Rukia protested just as lightly.

“Snacks aren’t an acceptable tithe.” His eyes were amber in the fading sunlight, and Rukia found herself swaying toward him.

“Oh?”

He swayed closer but turned back toward the forest. “No. I’ll see you in three days, archaeologist.”

Their visits together went on for another month like that: the push and pull of their banter, the way they swayed closer but never did more than hold hands. Rukia did her best not to think of him too much in between her visits, but she _did_ discreetly ask around about the Kurosaki family.

“Oh, it’s a sad story,” her landlady said over dinner one night. “The mother and father moved here back when the village was offering stipends and free housing. He’s the doctor for us and two villages further down, you see. She was a foreigner, but a sweet girl. They had three children, a son and twin girls.

“The mother died in an accident, oh, almost twenty years ago now. The son went off to Tokyo four years ago, and none of us have heard a word from him since. Now why are you asking about them, Kuchiki-san?”

Rukia had made up something on the spot about research for the ruins, but she thought about that the next time she climbed the path to the old ruins. It was cloudy and a little chilly, but she brightened when she saw Ichigo waiting for her, again, in a dark green yukata. The answering smile on his face warmed her insides and once again his lips touched the back of her hand in greeting.

“Have you brought your tithe?” Ichigo asked, but the way he said the words: low and teasing, with another of those smiles playing over his lips, sent a pleasant shiver throughout Rukia’s body.

“I have,” she said, and offered him another book from her bag. A strong breeze ruffled the pages, and Ichigo took it and tucked it into his yukata quickly. “I have more snacks, too. One of the village women gave me homemade brownies. They’re too rich to keep to myself.”

“Sounds delicious,” Ichigo agreed, and led her to the waterfall again. They ate the brownies and laughed together when they had to clean smudges of chocolate from their hands. “You have another bit just there,” he pointed out, gesturing to the corner of Rukia’s mouth.

“Hm? Oh, yes,” Rukia murmured and swiped at her mouth. “All gone?”

“No. Let me help.” Ichigo leaned forward and his eyes met hers before he kissed the corner of her mouth. His tongue darted out to find the chocolate, but Rukia turned her head and instead their lips met in a soft kiss that left them both smiling shyly, amethyst eyes meeting amber.

And then thunder cracked and the skies opened, immediately drenching them both.

“Fuck,” Rukia swore, and pulled away. “I can’t walk back in that. It wasn’t supposed to rain today!”

Ichigo stood and offered his hand to her. “Come with me,” he offered. “I know where we can wait out the rain.” He had to shout to be heard over it, but Rukia took his hand and followed through the heavy downpour.

It turned out that Ichigo really did have a little home in the woods, and Rukia gratefully stood on the covered porch and squeezed water out of her wet hair.

“I’ll give you a change of clothes,” Ichigo offered.

There was no modern technology in the one-room cottage, though Rukia wasn’t surprised – there weren’t exactly any electricity lines running through the forest. Instead Ichigo lit a small oil lamp and handed Rukia a towel and a fresh yukata from a drawer, and took one for himself as well.

She struggled out of her shoes, wet leggings, and the dress she’d been wearing, and checked herself over for ticks quickly before laying her clothes flat to dry. When Rukia straightened, she used the towel to quickly dry herself off, and then wrapped the yukata around herself. It was far too big, nearly dragging on the floor, and the sleeves hung far past her fingertips.

Ichigo was looking at her, and the heat in his eyes made her blush fiercely. He swallowed so hard that the Adam’s apple on his throat bobbed. “I won’t lie, I like the way you look in my clothes.” His cheeks were red, too, and they only darkened further when Rukia crossed the short distance and stood before him.

“Do you?” she asked and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

It had been a _long_ time since Rukia had kissed anyone, let alone slept with someone, but as Ichigo kissed her a fire seemed to light up in her body and she sighed into his mouth when his hands slid up the sleeves of her borrowed yukata and stroked her arms.

“Yeah,” he murmured into her mouth and let his hands slide away, only to wrap one arm around her waist. “Just tell me if you want me to stop,” Ichigo whispered against her skin as his mouth found her neck.

Rukia didn’t tell him to stop, and eventually she wasn’t wearing his yukata anymore – and neither was he. As the rain poured down outside, they twined together in his bed, creating their own warmth and later, their own light when the oil lamp burned out.

When she woke in the morning she was still wrapped in his arms, but Rukia jerked up as sunlight filtered in through the window. Ichigo was slower to rouse, but his lips curved up when he saw her, and his mouth met hers in a leisurely kiss.

“Good morning,” he said when their lips parted.

Rukia leaned up on her elbows and smiled at him, but said, “I’m going to be late for work. And I’m sure my phone is dead, so Hanatarou’s going to be freaking out.” She crawled naked out of bed and searched for her bra and panties, eventually finding them under Ichigo’s yukata.

“He’s your intern, not your boss,” Ichigo pointed out. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and rolled out of bed, then grabbed his yukata from the floor and wrapped it around himself.

“Right, but I’m his boss who didn’t come back to the village last night and isn’t at the dig this morning,” Rukia sighed. “And he’s a city boy, so I’m sure he thinks I got caught in a mudslide and died.”

Ichigo’s hand found hers and he pulled her to him so that he could kiss her again. “At least wash up and have breakfast.”

It turned out Ichigo really didn’t have any modern conveniences at all in the cottage, and Rukia washed herself with cold water while he cooked eggs and toasted bread on an old but clean gas stove. “Where are you getting your food from?” she asked when she was clean, dressed, and sitting at a petite wooden table eating scrambled eggs on toast with black coffee. “I know you haven’t been in the village since I’ve been here.”

Ichigo bit into his toast and said nothing.

Rukia’s eyebrow raised and she said quietly, “Ichigo, I know you’re from the valley. Why are you living out here by yourself?”

He carefully placed his piece of toast back on his plate. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

She frowned at him. “Did something happen?”

“Have you heard of the Yousei?” Ichigo asked.

Rukia sniffed. “If you don’t want to tell me what happened it’s okay, Ichigo, I can wait, but Yousei are a _myth_.”

But Ichigo’s hand brushed over hers gently. “It won’t be long until it’s time,” he murmured.

“Time? Time for what? Ichigo, are you trying to chase me off because all you want is a one-night stand?”

His eyes shot to hers and went steely, hand suddenly gripping hers on the table. “That is _not_ what I want,” he growled softly.

“Then why are you telling me about Yousei?”

Ichigo leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Because it’s the truth. I’m a prisoner of their queen, and in a week they’re going to sacrifice me.”

Rukia blinked at him slowly. “Ichigo, are you…in a cult?”

“No, but I’m entirely serious. Did you think the village made up all those stories?”

“Yes!” she shouted. “It’s an isolated village on an isolated island, and old stories can seem real when people move away or go missing in the woods.”

He sighed again. “Finish your breakfast and I’ll walk you back to the ruins.”

They kissed goodbye under the morning sun, but there was something sad between them. Rukia walked down to the village with a hitch in her step.

“Kuchiki-san! Where have you _been?_ Your phone kept going straight to voicemail and there’s a search party from the village looking for you!” Hanatarou exclaimed when she walked through the village gate. “Are those the same clothes you wore yesterday?”

“I’ve told you that you can call me Rukia,” she said a little wearily. “And I’m sorry for worrying you – I was caught in the downpour during my walk and had to find shelter in the forest for the night.”

Hanatarou bowed slightly. “I’ll call the searchers and tell them you are safe. You should get some proper rest, Kuch—Rukia.”

Rukia rose from her bed several hours later and stumbled downstairs, following the scent of beef stew.

“Ah, Kuchiki-san. Your young Yamada-kun told me that you slept rough last night. Come, sit, and I’ll give you some stew,” the old widow told her. She dished a hearty portion into a bowl and sat Rukia down at the table with the stew and a large spoon. “Eat, eat.” She joined Rukia with a bowl of her own.

Her stomach growled and Rukia flushed at the sound. She really _was_ hungry – and ate not just that entire bowl but a second, smaller portion.

“Matsuoka-san, is there some kind of holiday next week?” she asked when they were sipping tea and Rukia’s stomach was pleasantly full.

The older woman stared at her over the rim of her cup. “There is an old tradition on this island,” she said quietly. “But it is not a holiday that we _celebrate_. It is a night when the Yousei make their tithe to the underworld. We stay inside on that night.”

Rukia’s cup clattered as she set it down on the table. “Their tithe?” she asked.

“Yes. They sacrifice a human.”

“But – but that’s just a story. There are no Yousei and no real sacrifices.”

Matsuoka-san took another sip of tea. “I do not think that all of the sons and daughters who have left this village made it to Tokyo, Kuchiki-san.”

Rukia thought she was going to be sick.

Though they hadn’t arranged it, she climbed the path to the old ruins the next afternoon. She wore the iron pendant Matsuoka-san had given her and carried several omamori in her bag and pockets besides. Ichigo wasn’t there. Instead there was an impossibly beautiful woman in a kimono the color of a red dawn who smiled at her without warmth. “So puny,” she said, as Rukia raised an eyebrow. “But you’ll do well enough.”

Before Rukia could respond, the woman was on her, binding her with _magic_ , and Rukia could only struggle as she was dragged further into the ruins and then – elsewhere. She was temporarily blinded as the world flashed bright and then darkened.

“A new maid for us, on the orders of her majesty,” a voice said as Rukia’s sight began to return. The woman in the red kimono was gone – instead there were two figures, both beautiful – but not quite so beautiful as the other had been.

“Put this on.” Rough fabric was shoved into Rukia’s hands and she looked down – it was a set of monpe and a suikan, both dark gray, and a white undershirt.

“Where am I?” she asked. “Why are you telling me to wear these things?”

“You’re in the realm of the Yousei, and you’re ours now,” the one on the left said. He smirked at her. “You shouldn’t have come to the ruins so close to the Tithe.”

Rukia’s eyebrows raised nearly into her hairline and she looked around. They were in what looked like a large cave with smooth walls. The space was lit by colorful lanterns. _I thought iron was supposed to keep me safe,_ she thought inanely. “What if I refuse?”

The smile she received in return was not a kind one. “I don’t recommend that you do.”

She shivered in the cold of the cave and turned away from them to shuck off the shorts and shirt she’d worn for her work and pull on the old-fashioned uniform. There was a belt folded in with the undershirt and she tied it clumsily to keep the sleeves contained.

“Follow.”

Though the caverns were fairly large, the walls pressed in on Rukia and she breathed deep, reminding herself that it was no worse and likely much safer than the riskier field missions she’d been on, when she was the only one small enough to fit through a narrow passageway or tunnel.

On her first morning after being kidnapped, the beautiful woman swanned into the cave she’d been given as her _cage_ and offered her a small bottle. “This will keep away the feelings of panic,” she said, and smirked.

Rukia just brushed off her suikan and shrugged. “Thank you, but I don’t need it. I’ve been in smaller spaces.”

The woman scoffed, but there was a glint of something like respect in her eyes.

The next four days were some of the strangest of Rukia’s life. She fetched and carried all manner of things: water, food, bolts of fabric from the small storage caves that dotted the underground complex. She cleaned floors and washed dishes. And all through it, the people – the yousei, apparently – around her performed casual magic and prepared for the Tithe.

Occasionally Rukia saw another maid, but they walked as if in a dreamlike state, and didn’t respond to anything she said. It was the potion from the woman’s bottle, she thought – whatever they were given made them zombie-like.

On the day before the Tithe, she found Ichigo, pale and withdrawn in the cell next to hers.

“ _Ichigo,”_ she hissed. He looked up and then jolted, coming to his feet and finding her hands through the bars.

“You’re _here_. How? They took you too?”

“Four days ago,” Rukia confirmed.

He sighed heavily. “The Tithe is tomorrow, then. I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.”

Ichigo sounded so defeated that Rukia stuck her foot through the bars to kick his shin. “Idiot. We’re not giving up yet. There has to be a way to save you,” she hissed in a whisper.

But he just shook his head, and when one of the Yousei found them, she dragged Rukia away and locked her in her own cell. They could hear one another through the wall that separated them, and through the night she spoke to him, telling him that she could find a way to rescue them both.

Help came from an altogether…unexpected source.

“You must do what the old story says,” said one of the Yousei, a petite woman with white hair whose floor Rukia was scrubbing. She looked up curiously at the words, for almost none of the Yousei ever addressed her directly.

“Pardon me, obasan?” Rukia asked politely.

The woman smirked at her. “We will all go out from the hill for the Tithe. Before your lover can be bound to the altar, if you grab for him and hold fast, you can reclaim him.”

Rukia bit her lip and dipped her brush into the water bucket. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked softly.

“Some things only the oldest among us can see,” the woman said. “The Queen does not see what lies between you and him.”

There was no time to tell Ichigo; Rukia barely had time to put on the silken kimono that had been thrown at her before the Yousei shoved her into a line with the other maids. Up ahead she could see the Yousei, some carrying lanterns, and all of them dressed in kimonos so beautiful that they would have made a master tailor cry.

Ichigo’s flame-colored hair was among them.

They walked for what seemed like a long time through tunnels both wide and narrow, ever upwards. Rukia was glad that she’d been walking so much on the hills; some of the other maids quickly became winded. Finally, they emerged onto the surface under a night sky and they were in the ruins.

The ruins looked little different to Rukia’s eyes, to one exception: there was a stone altar in the center that hadn’t been there during any of her previous visits. The Yousei led the procession until they – and the humans they’d captured, Rukia included – were in a loose circle around the altar.

The beautiful woman, clad in a kimono of emerald green, stepped into the circle and ordered, “Bring forth the Tithe.”

Two of the Yousei split away from the circle, Ichigo between them. The old woman looked at her from across the circle and nodded fractionally.

Rukia leapt forward and before anyone else could react, she grabbed Ichigo.

She did _not_ expect Ichigo to immediately turn into, of all things, a duck. But she held on tight, and whispered, “I’m going to save you, Ichigo.”

The duck fought her, buffeting her with his wings and wriggling in her arms. Then it turned into a dog that scratched and whined, then a rabbit that tried to scrabble away. Rukia held on tight, and the Yousei – they just watched.

Ichigo took the shape of a dozen animals there under the night sky and the lantern light, and Rukia hung onto him tightly though at times his form was so tall that her feet did not meet the ground and her kimono tore under the onslaught of claws and even jaws.

She was sure she screamed, and she was just as certain that one of the Yousei laughed when she did, but Rukia lost all sense of anything but what the old woman had told her to do: hold fast to him and not let him go. Sweat poured down her face and dampened her kimono, and Rukia grew weary as she wrestled with a tiger that tried to escape and ripped a hole in the fabric that covered her.

But finally – finally, the stallion she clung to bucked one final time and then – then he was Ichigo, naked and shaking beneath the moon.

Without thinking about it, Rukia pulled at her obijime and let her obi fall to the ground, then pulled her kimono off and draped it over him, leaving her in only the thin, white nagajuban she’d worn beneath the fancier garment.

“Ah,” the beautiful woman said. “So, you know the traditions, though you are a modern woman.”

Rukia just kept her hold on Ichigo and lifted her chin. She very carefully did not look at the Yousei who had helped her.

The woman smirked, and at her gesture, the circle broke. “I am bested, Kuchiki Rukia. You may keep your prize.”

Before anyone could change their minds, Rukia dragged Ichigo from the circle and they ran for it. The moon was nearly full and somehow, they found the path down to the village. They burst through the gate with a clatter and Rukia shoved it shut behind her.

She was pretty sure they both looked like hell: Ichigo barefoot and in a torn kimono that was too small for him and was indecently tied with an obijime, and her in a nagajuban made nearly-translucent with sweat and her dark hair plastered to her forehead. None of that mattered a drop when Ichigo dragged her to him and kissed her, arms tight around her.

“Thank you, thank you,” he kept whispering, even as doors began to open around them.

Matsuoka-san burst out of her home in a dressing gown, while Hanatarou and the widower he’d been staying with tumbled out of another door in a flurry of striped jinbei and long white hair.

“RUKIA!”

At Hanatarou’s shout, lights began to turn on throughout the village and more doors opened.

But further down – further down, two young women, one with hair a few shades lighter than Ichigo’s and the other with hair as dark as Rukia’s, burst out of their doorway and screamed. “Ichi-nii! Ichi-nii’s here!” _The Kurosaki sisters_ , she thought, and her eyes welled up.

A man in his sixties with short-cropped hair mostly gone to gray followed, and as the villagers stood in their doorways in shock Kurosaki Karin and Kurosaki Yuzu darted down the street to Ichigo. He barely managed to brace himself when they found him and held him tightly.

Rukia stepped back with a little smile, but an arm darted out and she was pulled into the group hug. “I don’t understand how, but you brought Ichi-nii back,” Yuzu said, and Rukia let herself relax into the embrace of the two sisters.

“Ichigo,” a voice said soberly a few minutes later.

“Dad.” Ichigo’s voice was low and rough, and when Rukia looked up she could see silvery tear tracks on his cheeks. “I’m—” he cleared his throat. “I’m home.”

“Home and with our prettiest visitor in your arms,” Isshin Kurosaki commented. He dragged Ichigo to him in a rough hug and then grinned at Rukia. “I guess I’ll have a third daughter soon.”

Rukia’s cheeks heated but Ichigo just smiled at her and his eyes promised, _Yes._ When she managed to disentangle herself from the Kurosaki family so that Ichigo could hug his father, Matsuoka-san was waiting for her with a blanket, one that Rukia wrapped around herself gratefully.

“What _happened_?” Hanatarou demanded. The whole village – all sixty people – turned at that question and looked at Rukia and Ichigo expectantly. “You were gone for a week and Kurosaki Ichigo left the village _years_ ago.”

Rukia exchanged a helpless look with Ichigo. “I’m…not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” she said, and she could hear the relieved laughter in her voice.

Matsuoka-san, however, was looking at her with a keen eye. “It was the Yousei, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly, and then patted Rukia’s hand lightly. “It’s clear that whatever happened, what Kuchiki-san and Kurosaki-san need now is sleep. Go back to your homes, and we can talk about it in the morning,” she said loudly.

Reluctantly, the small crowd began to disperse. Rukia managed to kiss Ichigo one more time before he was dragged away by his father and sisters and Matsuoka-san took her inside.

Rukia didn’t wake until nearly noon and by the time she walked downstairs, showered and dressed in modern clothes for the first time in nearly a week, she half thought it might have all been a dream. But Matsuoka-san was beaming at her and after making sure she ate a restorative bowl of soup, she ushered Rukia to the community center. Ichigo was already there, looking a little uncomfortable in a new pair of jeans and a dark blue shirt. His hair looked freshly washed and even trimmed. He lit up at the sight of her and grinned when Matsuoka-san _helpfully_ gave Rukia a little shove.

“Hi,” he whispered to her, hand finding hers.

“Hi yourself,” Rukia whispered back.

And though they were in public, with half the village around them, Ichigo dipped down and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Be mine?” he asked when their lips parted.

“Yes,” Rukia murmured, and leaned up to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not an archaeologist, nor do I play one on TV. While I did a certain amount of research for this one-shot, I certainly do not claim to be an expert in archaeological digs or how such digs are budgeted for. GPR refers to Ground penetrating radar.
> 
> Some elements of this work, particularly the underground caverns, borrow from The Perilous Gard, a retelling of Tam Lin that takes place in England in the 1500’s. Sadly the book is not widely available anymore but if you can find it it’s still an enjoyable retelling.
> 
> Yousei means "bewitching spirit".


End file.
